


Hair in the Air

by dreamboats



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, if you ask jaemin anyway, jaemin is extra, jeno is perf, minor warnings in the beginning notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 17:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamboats/pseuds/dreamboats
Summary: Jaemin knows he does the most, but Jeno seems to mind the least.Alternatively, NoMin exchange presents, and it might be the fluffiest experience either of them has ever had.





	Hair in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant for the Christmas with Nomin fic event, but is being posted independently on account of Real Life Happenings. ^^; 
> 
> This goes to all the writers of the event, including its organizers. Thanks for the opportunity to talk about fic and this lovely pair~
> 
> It might be a bit too late to wish people a happy holiday, though I think it's not too late to say Happy New Year! May 2019 bring us all more happiness than the last year, and may it bring us more NoMin~
> 
> CW: head injuries and mentions of blood and death, though this is still fluff, I swear. >A<

Jaemin grasps the paper bag stuffed into his backpack. It’s nestled comfortably at the bottom of the schoolbag, cushioned by the laptop compartment behind, and by the thick front pocket, and Jaemin is almost sorry to disturb it. Just a few moments earlier, he took out a hoodie (emblazoned with the university’s logo and name, naturally), plus snacks and other stray items he didn’t need but had thrown into the backpack anyway to cover the package. His friends from the pep squad had taken one look at him and his bulky load that afternoon, and concluded he was going back home for the holidays, just like other students living away from home. Jeno himself, the reason Jaemin even took this unnecessarily big bag on the last day of the semester, the reason Jaemin put off his homeward trip till the next day, the reason Jaemin is hiding like a loser in his own bathroom, had chuckled and asked, “What’s in the bag?” Of course, Jaemin had to deflect, and point out that Jeno was carrying his own big backpack.

The paper bag finally leaves its hiding place, with one careful tug from Jaemin. “To: Jeno. From: Nana” it said, in a mix of Roman letters and Hangeul. The label was probably unnecessary, too, considering the contents of the bag had a proper card to go with it, but Jaemin’s impulses when it came to Lee Jeno were difficult to control. Some fifteen minutes ago (if not longer, oh god, he’s been in this bathroom forever), as Jeno was saying goodnight and a far too sober “happy holidays” at the front of Jaemin’s building, Jaemin blurted out “Let’s eat some ramyeon!” without even thinking. Jeno might have stammered and blushed in the low light of his car, but he did come up to the dorm room anyway. Knowing him, he’s probably worrying excessively over the ramyeon that Jaemin shoved into his face along with hurried instructions on how to cook the noodles.

With that image in his head, Jaemin finds the nerve to show himself again, with his precious package in hand. Jeno’s at the counter stirring the fragrant pot of ramyeon as expected, seeming to have forgotten about the sitcom playing on Jaemin’s laptop just close by. The look of concentration on his face, as if the artificially flavored broth held the secrets of the universe, brings out a laugh from Jaemin. It’s that sound that snaps Jeno out of his daze.

“There you are,” Jeno says. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Missed me already?” Jaemin grins. He leans on the wall, wanting to savor the sight of the other boy in Jaemin's own sleep clothes.

“Nah, I just needed you to check on the ramyeon.”

Jaemin pushes off of the cool cement to approach the source of warmth. “You didn’t add a packet of salt to that, did ya?” he asks, teasingly.

Jeno pouts, outshining even Jaemin’s prized Ryan plushie in cuteness. “That was one time.”

“Alright, Chef Lee, alright.” Jaemin takes a sip from the spoon proffered by Jeno. A familiar mix of spice and meat explodes in his mouth, followed by a creamier aftertaste. “Perfect! You added butter to this like I asked?”

Jeno sounds almost shy as he answers in the affirmative, though his face is positively beaming. “Shall I add the milk too, though? Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

That gets the butterflies in Jaemin’s stomach fluttering for the nth time that night, but he waves off Jeno’s concerns. “Don’t worry. If anything happens, I know I’ll be alright with you right here.”

Jeno pauses in the middle of reaching for a small carton of milk, and in that second of hesitance, Jaemin hurries to add “Besides, I have my meds. I can pop a tablet if things go, uh, south. Haha. It’s gonna be fine, really!” How many times has he let his big mouth run away with him in the couple of hours he’s been with Jeno tonight, honestly?

The wary look he gets from his companion is not undeserved. 

“If you’re sure.” 

Jaemin nods, smiling, and Jeno pours the milk into the ramyeon.

Noticing the lack of utensils, Jaemin sets the package onto the counter to grab bowls for Jeno and himself. It’s not the wisest decision, because it catches Jeno’s eye, and there’s no hiding his name written stark in black marker.

“Oh, hey. Is that for me?” His eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

Caught, Jaemin reaches once again for the bag, and rethinks the speech he’s been trying to rehearse all evening (and mayhaps the past couple of days if he’s being honest). He wanted to go for cool and casual, but there’s no cool and casual when nerves are at an all-time high, no thanks to Jeno, only feverish and frantic.

“Yeah, I… wanted to give this to you earlier, actually, but I couldn't find the time.” Jaemin laughs.

Jeno laughs as well. “I get you. Hell week’s been a pain.” 

“You mean hell month.” The memory of all those all-nighters and liters of coffee (the last of which Jaemin can still feel flowing through his veins) hits Jaemin, and he prays to Goddess Tiffany that his dark circles and blemishes aren’t too obvious right now. He returns the rueful smile Jeno gives him.

“You’re right. Swamped with deadlines for weeks...”

It is then that Jaemin sees the gauntness in Jeno’s face that wasn’t there when they first met at the beginning of the semester. Jaemin's heart clenches. The look in Jeno's eyes doesn't help.

“You know how it is,” Jeno continues. He tilts his head to the side in a show of nonchalance, which would be convincing if he didn't sound… what was it? Tired? Regretful? “I'm sorry.”

Jeno's apologizing (again) for disappearing during the longest cramming session Jaemin has ever heard of, but it was even longer since they last saw each other (11 days and 13 hours, not that Jaemin was counting). Though Jaemin could understand Jeno's situation, and would even try to relieve Jeno's guilt, the sudden loss of contact did sting; it was hard for Jaemin not to feel restless when they talked every day since they discovered they had more in common than being two Koreans sharing a couple of classes. The hug Jeno surprised him with when they reunited at the uni's famed lantern parade was enough consolation for the ghosting... almost.

“Hey, it's okay.” First priority is to reassure Jeno he did nothing wrong. “You're on academic probation, though with your stellar average, I don’t understand why--”

“University rule for transferees from different colleges.”

“Weird rule.” Jaemin sees Jeno open his mouth, probably to explain further, then close it when Jaemin shows no sign of stopping. “But you had to follow it anyway, so I do understand why you’re extra conscious of your grades, and why you, uh...”

“Ghosted?”

“Mm. Disappeared.” Jaemin counts off on his fingers. “Left me hanging… left me high and dry… left me out in the cold. Ditched me--”

“Okay, any more of that, and the ramyeon broth will turn into seawater.”

“Maybe on the way down the salt will fill the Jeno-shaped hole in my heart.”

Jeno is grimacing with the effort to not laugh. “I'm sorry, alright!” 

A thought strikes Jaemin. “If you mean it, then you'll accept this.” He lifts the paper bag. Right, second priority, gift Jeno the dumb thing.

Jeno gawks at the object, as if he's forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that’s the cue to actually hand over Jeno’s present, and Jaemin does go for it, but just as he extends his offering, Jeno squeaks, and dashes away to his backpack in another corner of the room. 

Jaemin splutters. “You’re-- you’re not leaving now, are you?” The butterflies in his stomach seem to have turned into a flock of trapped angry birds. If he spooked Jeno like this, with his extreme forwardness, Jaemin would never be able to apologize enough to Jeno, and he’d never be able to forgive himself. Jeno disregarded the implications of Jaemin’s dumbly-worded invitation tonight. He did see through it and understand Jaemin’s true intentions, but he was apparently uncomfortable. Jaemin giving him gifts this early into their friendship must have pushed Jeno over the edge.

Jaemin takes a hesitant step towards Jeno, who looks over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. He straightens up from his crouching position in front of his bag, and turns. “Leave? Why would I leave?”

The reply on Jaemin’s tongue dissipates when he sees Jeno holding his own paper bag.

“As much as I fear my mom’s wrath over me joining an impromptu sleepover, I couldn’t leave without giving you this.” Jeno stretches out the hand clasping the handle of the bag. His eyes are not on Jaemin but off somewhere to the side, maybe on the Ryan plushie. Jaemin remembers vowing to hide the animal for the next time Jeno comes over, seeing as the boy gets distracted by it far too often.

He himself is torn between gaping at the smiling cat printed on the paper bag, and gaping at Jeno’s outstanding profile. 

“No way.” Jaemin exhales in disbelief. He makes his approach as the other boy does the same.

“It looks like we're having a gift exchange, huh?”

“This is nuts,” Jaemin says, as their items switch hands. “I really thought you were-- You were gonna drive off, too… without even giving this.” He raises an eyebrow at his companion.

“I thought I'd have it delivered or something.”

“And not watch for my reaction when I open it? Half the fun in gift-giving is seeing your recipient's face when they first lay eyes on your gift.”

“What's the other half?”

“Picking out their gift as you imagine their face when they first lay eyes on it.”

Having picked off the tape holding the gift bag closed, Jaemin takes out a brown cardboard box. It's unwrapped, but tied with a white fabric ribbon edged with silver. There's a small card attached to it with string, and Jaemin would have left it for later if Jeno didn't just prompt him to read it.

“‘To Jaemin. Hope you find some use in this in the next few weeks. Merry Christmas! From Jeno.’ You mean I can't use it now?” The box feels light yet packed, but Jaemin gives it a shake. Nothing rattles inside, though whatever’s in the box makes tiny thumps as it hits the sides.

Jeno laughs as Jaemin tries to divine the contents. “Well, you could, but I don't think the air conditioning is cold enough for that.”

That does it. Jaemin unravels the bow with a quick tug, and drops the ribbon into the gift bag at his feet. He's already shaking the box once more to loosen its lid before the ribbon even makes it to its destination.

When he uncovers the box completely, lifts the last barrier in the form of pale Japanese paper, he's greeted with a sheet of white. He touches a finger to it and feels the softness of knitted fabric, the coarseness of wool. On his face, he feels the warm expectation of Jeno's gaze.

Jaemin inhales to steady himself. “I see what you mean. We are in 25-degree weather, and you got me,” he says, lifting the article out of the box, and watching it lengthen, “a scarf.”

Jeno fidgets. “I know it isn't winter here. I just thought you could use it during your Seoul trip.”

Biting his cheek in amusement, Jaemin tosses the empty box onto his bed nearby. He runs the length of the scarf through his hands, stopping at the edge, where he sees a tag stitched to it. The tag seems to be made of the same ribbon that held the box together.

“Besides,” Jeno continues, “I didn't buy that scarf.” He nods at the tag. “I made it.”

There, on the backdrop of silver, and neatly embroidered in pink cursive, reads “Na Jaemin”.

For some unfathomable reason, Jaemin's heart gets stuck in his throat, so he tries to clear it. “Wow, thank you, I… you…” He still sounds croakier than he would've liked. “I didn't know you could knit.”

Jeno's bright eyes disappear like the moon setting behind rolling hills. “I imagine there are things about you that I don't know, either.”

That image of Jeno with a smile in his eyes, and a token of Jaemin's affection in his hands is the latest of mental photographs of Jeno that Jaemin has taken and filed away. 

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” Jaemin whispers. Somehow he and Jeno have inched even closer, close enough for Jaemin to be distracted by the mole close to Jeno's right eye, and then by the curves of Jeno's lips.

Jeno turns away so fast, Jaemin is surprised his neck didn't pop.

“I guess I’ll start with what you've gotten me.” Jeno seems determined to open the gift bag without looking at Jaemin… or even the bag, for that matter.

Jaemin chuckles. “Great idea.”

The other boy gives up and almost tears the paper bag as he rips off the strip of washi tape. Jaemin can barely contain his excitement.

“What d’you think it is? Any guesses?” He bounces on the balls of his feet, clutching Jeno's hand-knitted scarf.

“I honestly have no idea.” Jeno peruses the box he took from the bag. It's made of a thicker cardboard than the one he put Jaemin's scarf in, but it’s not too different in size. “Is this a book?”

Jaemin nearly sputters. “You think… I’d get you a book as a gift?”

Jeno blinks at him. “My parents always give noona and me books. They’ve done it ever since we could read… even before we could, actually.

“Oh.” That makes sense… for Jeno to have hobbies such as knitting and reading, and for Jeno's parents to have encouraged reading. “Well, I can tell you it isn't a book.”

“Yeah, no, I thought it couldn't be, judging by the weight of this.” Jeno gives the box a shake. “You wouldn't wrap a book like this either, would you?”

Jaemin, who can't recall ever receiving a book as a gift, never mind giving one, racks his brains. “Wrapping paper, right?”

“Right.” 

Jeno picks at the seal of the box, and Jaemin breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey, uh,” Jaemin begins. He had been feeling confident in his choice of present, but the doubt that first struck him early this evening has returned with a vengeance, considering his new discoveries. “Don't expect too much, OK?”

“Huh?” Jeno exclaims. “I'm not expecting a fancy gift, Jaemin-ah.”

Jaemin can't even focus on the fond way Jeno said his name because of how nervous he is. “It's not that. I'm just saying… if you end up hating your present--”

“I couldn't hate anything you’d give me.”

Jaemin's a hair’s width from losing it. “If! If you end up hating it, or feeling blah about it-- I dunno… Just know that it's perfectly fine, and that I'll understand and accept any reaction from you. Just let me know what you think?”

Jeno's completely broken the seal wrapped around the lid of the box (why did Jaemin have to use so much tape?) and is just smiling bemusedly at him.

“Hey, I meant what I said. I’d appreciate anything you'd give me. Just the fact that you thought of me…” At this, Jeno bites his lip. “That you thought me special enough to even give a gift to… that already means a lot, Nana.”

Jaemin's heart thunders in his chest, but less out of nervousness this time. “I don't know if I'm supposed to say thanks or ‘you're welcome.’”

A guffaw bursts out of Jeno. “Let's get this box open and then exchange pleasantries, alright?”

His voice calms Jaemin. “Alright.” 

Jeno cracks the box open and pulls the lid back along its hinge. Soon, he'll be pulling back the lining of the box and laying his eyes, finally, on Jaemin's present, if he can't already see the gift through the thin material of the lining, that is.

Jaemin refocuses on Jeno's face. Love it, or hate it (and Jeno might very well hate it), Jeno's feelings will show in his expression, and Jaemin doesn't want to miss the smallest change.

There are sounds of the lining ruffling against cardboard, and then, “No way.” Jeno echoes Jaemin's words from earlier, his face frozen in an indecipherable look. 

He meets Jaemin's gaze. “I can't believe it.”

Jaemin gives him a tentative smile. “Yeah?”

“You actually-- oh my god, Na Jaemin, you really…”

“Yes?” Jaemin dares to smile more openly now, seeing the corners of Jeno's mouth curled up.

“You got me a scarf too?!” 

“Uh, Spider-man meme?” Jaemin holds up two finger guns.

“That's a dank meme, and you know it, Na Jaemin.”

“Hey, it fits!” Jaemin protests. 

Jeno ignores him to fully unwrap his fuzzy scarf. “It's even in the shade of blue I like,” he mutters, as if he was musing aloud.

“Aw, don't pretend you didn't make this scarf in my favorite color, either.”

Jeno looks at him again. “Your favorite color is white?”

“Yeah, and pink. Didn’t you know this already?”

“I remember you saying you like pink, because not many guys do.” Jeno sniffs. “But since pink might be too hard to coordinate with, might be too eye-catching, I figured your scarf could be in a neutral color like white.”

“Well, you aren't wrong. White does go with anything.” 

To make his point, Jaemin drapes the scarf around his neck, letting it hang past his maroon shirt, and tucks his hands into his jean pockets. He turns to walk a few paces back, before facing Jeno again, and striking a pose.

He directs his best attempt at a smolder to Jeno, who looks positively unimpressed.

“This look… it’s a bit too basic,” Jeno deadpans. He steps closer to Jaemin, though his eyes are on the knitted scarf. He rubs at his nose with a knuckle before taking one end of the cloth and gently pulling it off of Jaemin’s neck.

It’s not that cold, here in Jaemin's unit, but goosebumps erupt on the back of Jaemin's neck, and along his arms. “Oh, I see where you're going with this.” Jaemin takes the fuzzy scarf from Jeno's hand to free it, and mirrors the other boy's actions. Together, they fold each other's scarves in half, Jaemin doing it lengthwise first before crosswise.

Of course, Jeno beats him to finishing, and says “Let me.” His arms, along with the scarf, circle Jaemin's neck, and although Jaemin isn't much taller than Jeno, Jaemin feels like tilting his head forward. 

He gulps, feeling Jeno's light breath and intent eyes on his bare neck as he works the scarf, and Jaemin sees it too, the way Jeno's pupils shift as they follow the bob of Jaemin's Adam's apple.

Jeno gently tightens the soft loop of the scarf around Jaemin's neck. The room is suddenly 5 degrees warmer.

“There. It's a simple knot,” Jeno explains. “But I think it really elevates the outfit.” He nods slowly, mock seriously.

Jaemin can't help the smile on his face from tingeing his voice as he plays along. “Coordi-nim, can I try?” At Jeno's nod, Jaemin moves to tie his scarf the same way.

He kind of wishes he had waited to fold the thing. Then, he wouldn't be so quick to finish with it, and lose the excuse to remain this close. He must be moving a little slower than necessary, but Jeno waits patiently and without complaint.

The blue of the fuzzy wool is striking against the plain white shirt on Jeno. It even brings out the touch of pink in his complexion. His lips, which were pursed as he was fiddling with Jaemin's scarf, are now parted just the tiniest bit.

Jaemin adjusts the scarf so it fits snug against Jeno's throat. His fingers follow the trailing ends of the fabric, pausing somewhere near Jeno's navel when Jaemin reconsiders the knot. He grasps the scarf once again, and tucks its ends into the part hugging Jeno's neck, finally, pulling it up to his chin.

“Whatcha think?” 

Jeno is silent. A part of Jaemin's brain prompts him to pull himself and his hands away from Jeno, but it's overruled by the greater part that makes him tuck his fingers in where he can feel Jeno's neck again, and makes him draw even closer to Jeno's inviting mouth.

Jeno gasps at the movement. The thought of retreat hits Jaemin rapid-fire. But before he can stop, a squeaky sound escapes Jeno, and a burst of pain shoots through Jaemin's skull.

Jaemin stumbles back blindly as Jeno sneezes once, twice more. Clutching his throbbing nose, and willing away his tears, Jaemin cracks his eyelids open after an eternity to see Jeno’s panicked face right in front of his. Jeno's saying something but Jaemin can barely hear it over his still screaming nerves. Somehow he and Jeno ended up on the floor.

“Wow,” Jaemin begins, stuffy-nosed. “If you hated the scarf that much, you coulda just said so.” Oh god, that moisture on his face had better not be blood.

“Noooo.” Jeno swipes his thumb over Jaemin's cheek (the moisture comes away like a teardrop, but that isn't any less embarrassing). The poor boy himself looks like he's somewhere between laughing and crying, pretty much how Jaemin feels. “I think my allergies were just acting up.” 

“Allergies?”

Jeno helps Jaemin off of the cold tile floor and onto his desk chair pushed sideways. “Yeah. What's the material of that thing?” He points at the scarf, now on the edge of Jaemin's bed.

Shutting his eyes, Jaemin mentally scrolls through the online shop he found it on. “Mohair? Angora? Dunno.” He had looked at so many items. The buzz of conversation coming from somewhere (was his laptop still on?) plus his nose ache slash headache don’t help his recollections either.

At a tap on the arm supporting his head, Jaemin opens his eyes. Oh, Jeno must have dug into the mini fridge, because he's offering a can of pineapple juice. Jaemin takes it gratefully, pressing it to his face as he uses his scarf to shield his hand from the chill.

“Fur.” Jeno shoots the scarf an accusatory look before pushing it aside as he settles on Jaemin's bed. “That would explain why my nose is itching like this.” 

Over the numbingly cold can, Jaemin peers at him. “Don't you have three cats?”

“I wear a mask around them.”

Jaemin groans. He should've known, after seeing the couple of Jeno selcas with said cats and mask.

Jeno slides off of the bed, concerned. “Does it really hurt?”

“It did while I could still actually feel my face.”

Jeno tuts. “You should wrap the whole can in the knit, dummy.” Jeno does so, all the while holding Jaemin's hand after he pulled it away from his face.

Jaemin wags a finger at Jeno after he moves away. “I don't appreciate the name-calling. But I know I deserved that.”

“Mm, just don't freeze your face off in Seoul.” Jeno crosses one leg over the other at the knee, wiggling his slippered toes and looking far more comfortable than he has any right to be in Jaemin's pain.

“I'm not talking about my face, dummy,” Jaemin shoots back, receiving mere snickers from Jeno. “I'm talking about your killer scarf over there, and how I dumbly gave it to you.”

“Oh, I won't die from fur exposure. I'll just be uncomfortable.”

“You might’ve been uncomfortable.” Jaemin drags his chair closer to the bed until his legs bracket Jeno's. He leans forward in a challenge (at least, as big of a challenge he can make it, considering half of his face is hidden). “But I thought my soul left my body after you headbutted me as your only thanks.”

Jeno squints and considers Jaemin. He pulls Jaemin's hand away -- scarf, can, and all -- and kisses him.

It's the softest and briefest touch of lips, that the clear fact of it reveals itself to Jaemin long after it’s passed, like a glint of noon sunlight on the ocean leaving him dazzled.

“There's your thanks.” There it is as well, that light in Jeno's eyes, unobscured by glasses this time. The evening's fireworks display had reflected off of Jeno's lenses, so bright and colorful that Jaemin could see nothing else.

Sensation creeps back tingling into Jaemin's lips and face. “What about your apology?”

“Haven't I apologized several times?”

“Not for this head injury, no.”

“Were you so out of it that you couldn't hear me babbling earlier?”

So that's what he was saying while Jaemin was sprawled out on the floor. “Apparently.”

“Besides, it's you who hasn't even apologized to me and my nose.”

“I thought you said you'd appreciate whatever.”

“It's the thought I appreciate, Na Jaemin, not the object itself, never mind the allergy atta--”

Jaemin drops the wrapped can onto the mattress, and pulls Jeno into the kiss he'd long wanted to share -- not a cheek kiss that rushed past in excitement, not a forehead kiss that arose in a surge of empathy, not even a full-on kiss that blazed with euphoria. It was the kind that grounded one body to another, that blurred the lines thought to fundamentally separate subject from object, that said home is that that you are that I am. Jaemin gives, and gives, so that Jeno may take, realizing now that Jeno has just as much to give for Jaemin to take, if not more.

It’s too much. Jaemin breaks away. “Forgive me?”

Jeno looks dazed but sounds lucid when he replies. “What's the season if not of forgiveness?”

Jaemin, still cupping Jeno's face, touches their foreheads together. “God, I'll miss you over the break.”

“You’re talking like we won't be in the same city the whole time.”

“Well, we won't!” Jaemin grips Jeno's shoulders. “If you won't be in Seoul till, like, 3 days after I arrive.”

“2 and a half, but we can still message each other, can't we?”

“It's not the saaame!” Jaemin whines, flopping onto Jeno, who catches him as they collapse onto the snowy bed. Jaemin slides sideways but still keeps an arm around Jeno, while Jeno shifts to face him. As his leg settles next to Jeno's bare calves, Jaemin realizes too late that he hasn't changed out of his jeans, but he'll be damned if he leaves Jeno's warmth and the faint citrus notes of his cologne intertwining with the scent of Jaemin's fabric softener. 

“Who's gonna go to cafés with me, huh?” He pouts. “Who's gonna feed stray dogs with--”

“Just dogs?” Jeno lifts his head from the arm it's pillowed on.

“Stray dogs and cats with me?” Jaemin earns approving pats on his midriff. “Who's gonna be my beta taster--”

“Beta taster…”

“--When I try to recreate restaurant dishes? Who's gonna--”

“Jaemin-ah, not to interrupt, but you just reminded me of dinner.”

Jaemin springs from the bed. “Crap.” He had totally forgotten about the ramyeon. He skirts the bed, narrowly avoiding Jeno's overhanging legs, and dashes back to the abandoned pot.

Sure enough, off the fire and under the blast of the air conditioner, the ramyeon is pretty much at room temperature. Jaemin snaps out of his stare-down with the liquid, noodle-y abyss when he feels Jeno’s chin on his shoulder  and his strong arms once again around Jaemin’s midriff.

“Shall we go for pizza?” Jeno ventures.

Jaemin conjures in his mind the contents of his fridge and then of his wallet. “Split the bill?” He looks at Jeno hopefully.

“How about you buy us pizza, and I'll take care of breakfast tomorrow?”

“Oho, are you cooking?” Jaemin twists to wrap his own arm around Jeno's shoulder. “Gonna turn that one egg in the fridge into 6? Turn those 2 slices of bread into a whole loaf?”

“I'm not the next Messiah.” 

“Could've fooled me with your divine looks.” 

Jeno tightens his hold on Jaemin. “You just received my forgiveness for that scarf, and you still have to make up for ruining dinner too. Don't test me.” 

“Aw, you're no fun.” 

“No-fun is my middle name,” Jeno mutters, beginning to sound grumpy, presumably from the hunger.

It's the perfect reason to give Jeno another kiss, which Jaemin does. Judging by Jeno's response, it's an effective comforting method, too.

“You may be Jenojaem,” Jaemin says, all teasing gone. “But I'm happy to be here with you.”

Jeno smiles that indefinable smile Jaemin has come to know, but will undoubtedly spend a long time trying to understand. “Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> This work marks my first foray into NCT ficdom, and also my first successful attempt at completing a fic in years! Thank you to K, who roped me into this madness, and to H, who has kept me sane from long before I knew what an NCT was. 
> 
> Of course, thanks go to you too, dear reader! Please do let me know what you think by leaving a comment or kudos, if you wish~
> 
> Have a wonderful year ahead! 💚


End file.
